


Scrapped or Changed

by The_Blonde_and_the_Brunette



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-05-01 17:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19182394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Blonde_and_the_Brunette/pseuds/The_Blonde_and_the_Brunette
Summary: So this is where I'll be posting works or one-shots that have been scrapped or changed, because by god I worked hard to write them and it feels wrong to just hide them on my computer.  Plus, it might be interesting to some people to see how my particular brand of crazy goes about writing and how the stories change over time





	Scrapped or Changed

**Author's Note:**

> Dudes and Dudettes, read at your own risk.

A couple of days had past since you first encountered Arthur and John, and every single one of them had been surreal. Moving out of the mountains that had been your home for so long was traumatic enough, but the two outlaws that had claimed you for their own just added salt to the fire. Each night, one of them took you, the other usually watching. You had never heard of a relationship like this, but the two men seemed at ease with one another, fitting into roles that you were slowly understanding.

You knew that when Arthur looked at you with heat in his eyes, it would be a long, drawn out night. He was dominant, and demanded obedience. Oddly enough though, he was patient with you as well, far more patient than he was with John.

And John, liked to be sweet. He was rougher during the day, wilder compared to Arthur's tightly leashed control, but when he was with you all that wildness melted away.

It would help if you weren't exhausted all the time, unused to long hours in the saddle and nightly parlays with a man, but there was no slowing down or rest stops. One of the men, usually Arthur, would just pluck you from the saddle and deposit you in front of him at any sign of weariness. John didn't notice things like that as quickly, and more often or not it was the older cowboy that barked at him to check on or see to 'rabbit'.

You had never felt more safe than you were in their camp, as crazy as that sounded for someone that had been set upon and abducted. Though you had overheard several conversations that left little doubt that the two men were on edge, running from something or someone.

"Sadie and Charles meetin us at Horseshoe Overlook?"

"Figured it was safe," Arthur spoke around a cigarette, the smoke looping up into the sky, "if they got away from Beaver Hollow clean, that is."

From the bedroll where you were pretending to be asleep, you watched the lit end of the cigarette glow, and the smoke trail off. They were standing at the edge of the campfire, John with his rifle and Arthur without his shirt. You thought it was funny, John being on guard. If anything was near, it had most likely been chased off by the screams Arthur had pulled from you earlier.

Your body twitched a reminder, but you fought down the moan, concentrating on what else was being said.

"This is a nightmare, Arthur. Dutch going crazy, Micah springing his trap. Feels like we're runnin away from our troubles. Left some people too."

"Bill and Javier said they were headed south. I offered, they refused." Arthur didn't sound too happy. "As for runnin, if we hadn't, we'd have died."

"At least the women got out."

"At least." It was a snarl. You snapped your eyes shut as Arthur's eyes turned to you, then peeked again after a moment to hear his voice soften. "At least some good came out of it."

John's laugh was a rasp. "Bill did say you's getting soft in your old age."

"Bill is a goddamn idiot. Think I'm soft?" He gestured to where you were wrapped up in the bedroll, tone biting again. "Think what we did to her was soft?"

John's face pinched, "could've done a lot worse."

"Not quite sure of that, and it's not like we've stopped." Cigarette was squashed beneath his boot, and another was promptly pulled out.

John didn't answer, just stood in silence as Arthur decimated another cigarette. You shivered as a cool breeze hit your exposed shoulder, and snapped your eyes shut again as both mens' eyes slid over at the movement.

"We'll need to pick up some new clothes tomorrow in town, heavier stuff for when we cross the mountains."

John's voice followed, "might as well stay in the hotel tomorrow, take a bath maybe. She's got mud on her from Ambarino still."

What? You snuck a glance down at your body, trying to see the offending mud.

Arthur's chuckle was surprisingly loud. "Do yourself a favor, Marston, don't go telling her that." There was the sound of the rifle being passed over. "I'll take watch, you go keep her warm."

A sliver of disappointment went through you, and you wondered at it. Arthur never cuddled or held you while asleep, never really seemed to relax. Even when he did sprawl out with his hat tucked over his face, it was never near you. More important than that though, when had that started to disappoint you?

Technically speaking, you were their prisoner. Not that they treated you as such, not after that first night. Now, when watch was placed, the men more or less faced outwards, not inwards, and during the day they treated you with deference. They were almost gentlemanly, until night fell. They had a routine, where Arthur would hunt late in the evening as they started looking for a place to camp, and cook while John set up and saw to the horses.

Surprisingly, they let you keep Sugar, though the way both men treated their horses you could easily see that they held the bond between horse and rider as sacred.

Little touches and soft words during the day, ramping up in the evening, was a clue on who you would be sharing a bed with that night. And if it was Arthur, it would end without fail with him sending John to cuddle you afterwards.

You kept your body limp as he slid under the blanket next to you, a quick kiss pressed against your shoulder before it was covered up. It was a while before your thundering heart quieted, still unsure with having someone so close, but he either pretended not to notice or was oblivious, and within an hour you were lulled to sleep by the quiet snores in your ear.

  
The next morning when you woke, you glanced over the fire to see Arthur splayed out, hat covering his face. The sun was just starting to peek its nose over the horizon, and John was stirring up the fire to keep the coffee warm, hair a raggedy mess.

"Mornin," he rasped, handing you Arthur's tin cup.

You made a noise in the back of your throat, sitting up and sipping the dark liquid John thought passed for coffee. His eyes flickered over your nude torso, and though your skin twitched, you managed not to dive for the blanket. What was the point, you reasoned, not like his lips hadn't been all over you.

"You've got bruises."

He did not sound pleased at all, and glancing down, you could see why. There was a perfect handprint turning yellow and green on the left side of your rib cage, and the opposite hip had a match. Why he wasn't commenting on the dozen or so love bites that marred your breasts and hips was strange, but then again they didn't smart like the handprints were starting to. When you prodded one, the smarting turned to an ache.

"Ow."

John huffed, "Really? Ow?" He unbuttoned his shirt and quickly passed it over. "Here, put this on, fore Arthur wakes up."

"Why?" You slipped it over your shoulders, but didn't move to button it.

"Just put it on." John reached over and impatiently started to button it, and you made a sound of displeasure as you were jerked forward.

"Marston, what the hell you doin'?"

You both turned your heads to watch as Arthur hoisted himself into a sitting position, fingers rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Instead of answering, John finished buttoning the shirt,and then retreated back to his original spot. "Mornin."

Arthur ignored him, but looked up in surprise when you held out the tin cup. He took it, raising it in your direction before taking a sip, and then promptly spat it out. Your lips tugged up into a grin as he groused:

"This is digustin, John."

As they bickered over the new camp rule that declared John was never allowed to make the coffee again, you zoned out, staring at the trunk of a tree. It wasn't until Arthur ran his hand up your arm that your attention came back, a shiver stealing over you as you turned to see him staring at you, John poking the fire with a stick.

"Yes, sir?"

It didn't quite feel awkward the more you said it, but you blinked in confusion as John barked out a laugh and Arthur blushed, the color stealing across his cheeks.

"What?" You looked at one then the other, confused.

"You don't have to call me that." Arthur seemed almost embarrassed.

"But-"

"Amorous congress aside, Arthur'll do." His words caused John to cover his mouth with a hand, but Arthur just closed his eyes and inhaled deeply at the younger man's action.

Your own face heated up, and you coughed awkwardly. "Did you ask me a question?"

The cowboy let out the breath he'd been holding, "Just wondered what you were thinkin."

You shifted where you sat, not really knowing if he was expecting an answer. Your silence only caused both of them to look at you, Arthur with a guarded expression and John with open curiosity.

"Beaver Hollow," you said softly, and both men tensed up.

"You are a little eavesdropper." John quipped, but you just shrugged, watching as thoughts flitted across Arthur's face.

"Fine," he turned to face you, leaning into your space. "We'll tell you, but you gotta give something in return." When you tilted your head to the side, confused, he continued, "you gotta stay with us, no running, and no giving us away."

"I haven't tried to-"

"Not yet," Arthur cut you off, "you ain't been tempted yet."

Your brow lowered in anger. "I haven't tried to gut either one of you yet, and I've gutted plenty animals." When you said it, the simple truth silenced you. It was true, despite both of them being bigger, if you had really wanted to you could've seriously injured one of them before the other could respond. While you sat there, stunned by the revelation, John broke his stick in half, making you jump.

"It's not about gutting us, Bunny. Hell, we deserve to be gutted." His smile was sharp, ignoring the glare Arthur sent his way. "We told you we'd take care of you, but we've been hunted for a long time. Need reassurance, that's all."

"I've never had anyone want to look after me." You whispered, staring at your toes from where they peeked out of the blanket. When you looked back up into Arthur's eyes, they had lost the guarded edge. "I ain't gonna turn on either one of you."

Arthur nodded, but his lips stayed pressed into a harsh line. "Alright, then we'll tell you."

It didn't take that long at all, really. Arthur had a way of shortening sentences, getting all the important details down and leaving out the extra. Where John felt he failed, he added extra commentary that usually fed color into the impersonal tone Arthur set. You could almost imagine these tragedies had happened to someone else, the way Arthur told it. Some parts Arthur faltered on, and some parts John declined to add his two cents, but one thing they shared was a venomous hatred for one Micah Bell, who seemed to be the instigator of it all.

By the end of it, the three of you were all watching the coals left in the firepit, the flames sizzling and dying out among the embers. John was the first to break the spell, and when he stood to stretch, bones popping down his back, your own arched in response, wincing as your bruised skin caught.

Arthur's gaze on you was tangible, like his fingerprints on your ribs, but he didn't say anything as John helped you up.

"C'mon then, Valentine's still a half a day away."

"Yea, looking forward to finally getting this mud off." Your tone was mild, but when you straightened up from picking up your bedroll, John's ears were as red as a tomato.

"Somethin wrong, John?" Arthur didn't even try to hide the shit eating grin on his face as he ground out the fire, covering it with dirt.

"I hate eavesdroppers," was the grumbled reply as he started for the horses.

You had a moment to grin to yourself before Arthur started corralling you towards the horse with the other bedrolls in tow, his large frame brushing against your back as he kept teasing John as the other cowboy jerked a shirt from his saddlebag and ended up trying to put it on inside out.

 

The hotel room was decent and simple, with a single large framed bed and a couple of chairs in front of a fireplace. Your hair was still wet from the bath, trailing over your shoulders as you stepped through the door that John held open.

You thought it would have been difficult to keep the men out of the bath room, but Arthur had gone to the general store as soon as you had reached the hotel, casually asking your favorite color and tipping his hat before sauntering away.

John had thought it funny that you had eyed his backside as he strolled off, head canting to the side, but had only ruffled your hair and guided you into the hotel, asking loudly for a bath for "his lady" and then had plopped himself against the wall opposite the door and gestured you to go in.

"Aren't you gonna take a bath, too?"

You were not prepared for the heat that darkened his eyes, and practically slammed the door shut, blushing as his bark of a laugh could be heard through the wood.

Now he lingered in the door, visibly checking the room. When his dark eyes finally turned to you, they flitted over your form before he suddenly turned away.

"Go ahead and get some sleep, I'm gonna go take a bath myself. No sense in only one of us being clean." He stepped through the door and then looked back. "Lock this door behind me."

"But how will you get back in?"

He just huffed as he shut the door, "outlaw, bunny, remember?"

By the time you had locked the door and shimmied out of your still dirty clothes, the bed was a heavenly beacon of softness calling. It was the first time in a long time you had even seen a bed, and you splayed out in the middle of it.

However, a knock had you shuffling up on your elbows, panic setting in as the knob turned. It disappeared into a puff of smoke as Arthur walked in, his eyes going straight to your nude form, as he shut the door behind him.

"Where's John," he asked as he crossed over to the bed, setting down several wrapped parcels on the duvet and setting his hat down next to him.

"Taking a bath," you replied, sliding to the edge of the bed. When you would have stood however, Arthur blocked your path, his hand sliding along your side until he covered the bruise that was a perfect indent of his hand.

You winced, and he let out an audible sigh. "So that's why you were wearin John's shirt."

"His idea."

"Course," he head bobbed, thumb sliding over the bruise, and then he dipped his head down and kissed it. Surprised, you clasped your hands behind his head as he pressed another kiss on its twin, before moving upwards, trailing his beard up the valley between your breasts before he nudged your neck, burying his lips against your pulse.

He stayed there a moment, listening to your racing heartbeat, before he pulled back and removed his hands, turning back to the parcels. "Come see your new clothes."

The man was a devil, but when you peeked up to look at his face, he was intent on opening the packages, eyes stubbornly turned away from you. So you slid closer, tilting your head to look at the garments as he laid them out.

"Got you a couple shirts, nothing fancy." Blue, and a vibrant yellow starred with little flowers. Next came jeans, durable and good for the saddle, then undergarments, scarf, gloves and socks of all things. A heavy brown coat, with sheep's wool on the inside, a stalker hat, and a pair of thick red long johns. You raised a brow when you picked up a pale blue nightgown, the long cotton soft in your hands.

"Thought you'd appreciate it." His ears looked a little red.

"Thank you," it was knee length, with long buttons down the front. When you slid it on your shoulders, he once again stepped into your space, fingers tugging the edges together and slowly buttoning it up.

He kept his head down during his task, fingers barely brushing your skin. When he finished, his eyes flickered to your face, and you leaned in subconsciously, wanting his kiss.

"Get some sleep, long day ahead." The kiss was quick and to your cheek, and you gave a huff of frustration.

"Tease." You turned and clambered back into the bed, not missing the small smile on his lips Ashe moved the packages to a neat pile on the floor. He settled into the chair by the fireplace, placing his hat once again over his face.

You stuck your tongue out at him, and then jumped as he rumbled, "go to sleep, rabbit, or else I'll find a use for that tongue."

 

You woke up with lips against your own, dry and warm. Hands were at the buttons of your nightgown, and your hands were against damp skin.

You made a little noise, and were hushed as the hands finished the buttons, pulling the edges of cloth apart and sliding firmly over your stomach.

Eyes opened, and John's dark eyes were above your face. He broke the kiss to move to your neck, where he kissed your pulse before nipping it, causing you to gasp.

"Quiet, bunny. Don't wanna wake anyone."

He was still damp from the bath, hair curling a around the nape of his neck. His lean chest and stomach, different from the burly muscle of Arthur, was a playground you could not resist. But when you dipped your hands down and wrapped around his solid length, John jumped, shying away.

"Christ, bunny. Go easy on me."

"Want you," you whispered, biting at his lip as he came back up.

"What's gotten into ya?" He circled one of your breasts, pinching at the nipple while he nuzzled your cheek.

"Tired of you two teasing me." Your voice turned breathless as he skunk down the the edge of the bed, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. When he heard, he tilted his head, eyes flickering to Arthur's sleeping form before he whispered conspiratorially:

"Then how bout you and me do some teasin of our own?"

He didn't wait for your confirmation, but quickly stood and with one quick jerk took you to the edge of the bed, stopping your motion with his hips. When you yelped, his finger pressed against your lips, and then he turned your head so your gaze was pinned on Arthur.

"You listen to him, bunny, now you gotta listen to me. Quiet, and stay like this." He lifted your hands up and folded them behind your head.

When he leaned back and stepped between your legs, your breath caught as you saw Arthur watching from under the brim of his hat. His eyes lingered on your face, holding your gaze, before they slowly roved down your body and you shivered as they darkened.

When John took one of your breasts in his mouth, trapping your nipple between his tongue and top teeth, your lips opened on a gasp, quivering as Arthur's gaze grew even hungrier. John moved to the other breasts, and his fingers slipped in between your legs and started stroking softly. Arthur's eyes flickered to your thighs, and you realized they were quivering as you fought your instinct to clamp them around John's hips.

John hummed approval as you stayed where he put you, and slipped a finger inside, causing your eyes to flutter. You managed to keep them open though, watching as Arthur slowly reached down and pushed his palm flat agains this crotch, a grimace crossing his features.

When John drew back his hand and grasped his shaft, lining it up at your entrance, you lifted your head to look at him. With surprising strength he pushed your head back down, palming it for a moment before smoothing down to rest lightly on your throat.

You couldn't help but moaning softly as he pushed inside you, a short, teasing thrust so that he slid barely inside. His hips rotated, drew back slightly, and then shallowly pushed forward again. His short, languid movements bounced your body against his, and he took advantage of the recoil to move you against him.

You had shut your eyes tight when his advances began, but when he was fully sheathed and the hair on his lower stomach tickled your mound, your eyes snapped open. You had forgotten about Arthur, but now your breath caught under John's hand as you saw he had pulled his pants open, one large hand wrapped around his cock as he languidly stroked it. You were riveted by the sight as his eyes took you in, gaze trained on your face as he watched every little twitch and emotion flit across it.

You were caught like a butterfly, trying to hold your responses in as John fucked you with a casualness that bordered on lazy, hips barely moving despite the fact that his breathing was labored. Finally, you broke, moaning as you pleaded.

"Please, John...please."

His hand moved from your throat and buried into your hair, and his hips snapped forward sharply, drawing a cry out from you. You came undone as he repeated the action again and again, your cry turning into a laugh as your pulsing center brought John over as well, and he braced his elbows on either side of you and moaned his release against your skin.

Arthur's curse caught you by surprise, and you turned to see his head thrown back, hips tilting up as he came into his hand.

John's soft kisses brought you back, and with a groan he slid to the floor.

"You've killed me, bunny."

You hummed, then whined as you squirmed back towards the pillows. "It's cold, come to bed. Both of you."

The men froze at your command, but John simply smiled at Arthur as he crawled into the bed, slipping between you and the wall. "You heard the lady, Arthur. To bed with you."

Arthur stared at you both for a moment, then let out a grumble as he stalked towards the bed, disrobing as he went. He slipped under the covers and hesitated, limbs awkward. You solved the problem and snuggled under his arm, head on his chest.

"Course you get cuddled, I get freezing feet." John grumbled, shifting so he could drape an arm over your waist.

"You better pray I don't find you cuddling me in the mornin, Marston." Was Arthur's sleepy reply as he trailed a finger down your cheek.

You pillowed your head on his pec and let out your breath, willing your body to shut down, trying not to twitch every time one of the men breathed. You had never felt safer, and yet still felt like a rabbit among wolves.

Sleep eluded you, and you watched as the sun painted the sky through the window pink and orange, the hues lovely against the cowboys' sleeping faces.


End file.
